Harana
by Cirque du Lune
Summary: If you can't say your feelings, sing them.  GerIta, includes OC Philippines. One-shot. Rated T to be safe.


L/N: GRAGHL I'M SO LAATE.

This was supposed to be submitted last February 14, but I wasn't able to upload it on time... great. See how much I fail? Anyways.

There are a lot of references to different countries here, most especially from the Philippines. I'll get to the translations and the meanings later. For now, just enjoy the fic. Thanks.

I don't own Hetalia, neither do I own the song used here.

* * *

**'Harana'**

Ah, Valentine's Day. The sweet, sweet day for lovers to go all mushy and send each other chocolates. A day for pinks and reds and whites, a day for hearts and cupids. Nobody really hated February 14 (right?). Everyone had already planned ahead, actually. That goes to show how excited they were. But who was that one man over there fussing and panicking? Who was that one poor soul who was in a perpetual frown, continuously headdesking on the lovely mahogany dining table of Austria, behind him a certain Prussian man laughing at his situation?

Why, it was Germany, of course.

"Germany, you can stop doing that now," Hungary called out from the kitchen. No doubt she was preparing food for her husband, a.k.a said owner of the table that was currently being harassed by Ludwig's headdesks. "Besides, if you continued on doing that, you'd probably end up having a huge bruise on your face. We don't have any ice packs, mind you."

The German only groaned. He didn't feel like arguing with the frying pan girl. If he did, he'd get a long, agonizing lecture from her about not talking back. If he didn't, she'd bug him about not answering her (which was even more torture if her bugging speed went to the maximum level). If neither was done, his older brother Gilbert would just make his day worse (if he was in the room - which in this case, he unfortunately was). So what was he to do?

. . . I don't know either.

"Hey!" Prussia retorted. "Let's not forget that the awesome me is in this room, okay? Now, _bruder_," - at this, he gave his brother a painful clap on the back - "it's bad to feel blue when Valentine's Day is near, ja? Not like you even care of course, because you're forever alone in this world, but . . . anyways! Cheer up a bit, West! You know, I wouldn't be able to post awesome pictures of my awesome Valentine's party if you're just going to ruin everything by looking like a haggard."

Germany continued banging his head on the table. "This isn't your problem anyway . . ." he muttered painfully. "And who says I'm going to your party? I don't even want to go."

"But you'll miss out lots of things!"

"So?"

"Party pooper."

"Heh."

"Will the both of you shut up?"

"Yes, Hungary."

Elizaveta emerged from the kitchen, untying a frilly pink apron from her neck. Various splotches of sauce littered around on said apron gave away the condition of the poor cooking area - it probably looked like what would happen to a kitchen if all hell broke loose. Heck, even she looked like she just came from hell herself. Messy hair, bloodshot eyes, a snarl on her face . . . she must've put her whole being into that dish. Shudder.

"Ludwig, look," Hungary snapped. Germany noticed that she used his 'human name' - and whenever she did that, it always meant serious business. "First of all, you've got to stop banging your head on the table. If you end up with a migraine, or if that table breaks, Roderich will kill you. Seriously. Don't try to get him mad. Second, what's your problem, anyway? You haven't told me anything. Now would be the best time to do so."

For once, the exasperated man lifted his head. There was a huge red mark on his forehead, but it was quite obvious that his whole face was sort of flushed. He pointed a stiff finger at his older brother, who in turn looked very confused. "Not with him in the room!" he shouted. The Prussian was taken aback, his mouth gaping open as if he was just denied the privilege of being awesome. Gilbert was about to protest, but when he caught a glimpse of Hungary glaring at him (the scary glare that meant 'get-out-of-this-flooping-room-now-or-I-will-kill-you' glare that always freaked him out), he walked out of the room, looking rejected.

("But that doesn't mean that I won't be eavesdropping! I'm so awesome! Kesesesesese!")

Anyways.

Hungary took a seat next to Germany. Based on the serious face she was wearing, he just knew that she wouldn't spare him from bucket-loads of questions. "Alright, now that Prussia's outside . . . spit it out."

There was an awkward moment of silence as Ludwig tried to find the words to speak. Did he really have to? If only he wasn't stuck in this situation (actually, if he wasn't stuck with talking to Elizaveta. She was just too persistent and determined to get him to speak that it actually made him scared of her), he'd be running outside of the house, probably go get a beer or something, and get drunk. Darn the four concrete corners of the room that kept him captive. "Well . . . "

"Go on."

He breathed in deeply and sighed. " . . . what would you do . . . I-if you liked someone . . . but you didn't know how to tell them?"

At these words, the woman's mood suddenly shifted. A broad grin appeared on her face. "Ooh, Germany! So that's why you were blushing a lot earlier! Who is it? Go on, tell me!"

_Fudge, _he thought to himself. _Now I bet she won't stop asking. _"W-what's it to you?"

"Of course I need to know," shrugged Hungary. "If you don't tell me, I won't be able to tell you."

_Fudge. _"Uhm . . . f-fine." Germany mumbled something inaudible afterwards. He turned away to look at something else, evidently turning red.

"What? I can't hear you."

" . . . fhhnniann . . . "

"What?"

"Fine, fine! It's Italy!" Ludwig practically shouted. He buried his (now very red) face in his hands as Hungary's smile grew even wider. She looked at him with some sort of 'ohoho-I-see-I-see' face. He refused to look at that. And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, the door suddenly blasted open, revealing Prussia looking as if he'd just heard something very, very embarrassing and he'd decided to make it last for the poor guy. (Oh wait, he just did.)

"Did my awesome ears just hear what you said?" he laughed contentedly. "You like _Italy_?"

Germany tried to stay composed. He undeniably failed at it. "S-so?"

His brother only laughed harder. "Bruder, that's so unlike you! No wonder you've been acting differently around him these past few days!"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Elizaveta giggled. "I never knew that you were actually capable of that!"

"Alright! Alright! It's weird, I know!" the blond-haired man groaned. "But please . . . be quiet about it. Now Hungary, returning to my first question . . . can you help?"

The Hungarian girl grinned. "Of course I can! If it's anything about problems like this, I can obviously do something." She then turned to Gilbert and scowled. "You stay out of this. I can't afford having you embarrass your brother in front of the others, okay?"

Both of the German brothers looked at her, either one confused or shocked.

"In front of the others?"

"I'm not allowed to go?"

Elizaveta rolled her eyes. "Whatever I say goes, okay? Now, let's go, Ludwig. We'll ask for tips from the others."

She dragged a very confused Germany out of the room, leaving a very pouty Prussia standing alone by himself.

("Oh well. At least I get to plan for my awesome party now! Kesesesesese!")

* * *

The day went on and they were able to ask most of the other countries (excluding Italy, of course) for tips on Valentine traditions.

First stop, Japan's place.

"Well," he mused. "It's usually the women who express their love to their pairs on Valentine's day. The men have to return gifts to them every March 14, though. We call that day 'White Day'."

"Okay. Anything else?" asked Hungary. Germany was jotting everything down on a notebook.

"Even if the women aren't really close to them, they give chocolates to other men such as bosses, colleagues, and friends. These chocolates are called '_giri-choko_'. Chocolates that they give to their loved ones are called '_honmei-choko_'."

"I guess that's all that we need. Thanks for your time!"

"You are most welcome."

* * *

Next stop, Lithuania's.

"Ahh, we just give cards to each other, really," the Lithuanian mused. He had finished sending a one to Miss Belarus, Russia's younger sister. "That's an example there."

"Okay. Thanks!"

"No problem."

* * *

Third: Greece.

"Some people . . . believe that Cupid . . . is still going around . . . creating mischief . . . and making people . . . fall in love with each other . . . though I don't know . . . if they mean it jokingly . . . or not . . . "

The only thing Ludwig and Elizaveta could do was nod. "Err, okay . . . thanks."

"No . . . problem . . . " And with that, the nation fell asleep.

* * *

Next: Denmark.

"Ah! We give each other white flowers called 'Snowdrops'. We also have '_Gaekkebrev_', where we send our loved ones messages, and we also write poems for them too! But we don't write our names, obviously to keep it a secret. If the girl guesses who sent it, then she gets rewarded with an Easter egg on Easter! Pretty neat, huh?" Denmark flashed them one of those trademark grins of his and gave them a thumbs up.

"Okay," Germany mumbled, all the while continuing writing keywords down. "I guess that's fine now. Thanks."

"Hey, no problem!" The Danish man suddenly frowned. "What do you need that for anyway?"

"Oh, nothing. Just some research. Right, Germany?" Hungary grinned. The German just looked away, red-faced. "Alright, let's go!"

* * *

It was already afternoon when they decided to head over to the Philippine's place. Unexpectedly, they also ran into Austria.

Roderich immediately handed the Hungarian a bouquet of red and pink tulips, which she took with a huge smile on her face. Seeing the couple so happy together almost made Ludwig think of Italy again . . . wait, what? That wasn't supposed to . . . ah heck. He didn't care anymore.

"Germany," the Austrian commented, noticing that the German seemed a bit distant. "You don't look focused today. Are you alright?"

At once, he snapped out of his trance. "A-ah . . . yeah. I'm fine."

"Hmm. If you say so," Then, turning to Hungary, "What are you doing anyway?"

Elizaveta grinned. "Oh, nothing. I'm just helping Germany over here with his problem."

"What problem?"

At once, the girl whispered it into Roderich's ear. Ludwig stared in embarrassment as the Austrian's facial expression changed as she pulled away. _Oh great. Not again._

But then again, why should he worry about Hungary telling Austria? It wasn't like he'd tell anyone else, really. He wasn't one of those scary people who'd blackmail you if something embarrassing happened to you. The only person he knew who'd do that to him would be Prussia. But it was understandable, because he was his brother. No other country would probably do the same. The others could dare, but they'd never do it.

. . . but maybe Russia would . . . oh the horror . . .

"You're thinking again."

Ludwig snapped out of his thoughts once again. He saw Roderich staring at him weirdly, as if there was some sort of piece of tissue stuck to his shoe (but of course there wasn't any), or as if he was riding some huge, magical unicorn that puked out rainbows and flowers, spreading happiness and love to everyone in the surrounding area (what?). He just sighed and turned to stare at the ground instead. "I know, I know."

He still felt the gaze of Austria on his shoulder. There was a short moment of silence. (_I knew it.) _Suddenly, he heard a stifled giggle.

. . . wait, did that just come from Roderich?

Now, this was just weird.

"O-okay . . . I'll leave you alone with that," the culprit coughed. He was still obviously trying to stop himself from laughing. Germany looked at him in annoyance. Hungary just laughed along. He cleared his throat afterwards. "Anyways. I'll be going now. Good luck with solving your problem."

And after a final hug and greeting for Elizaveta, he was gone.

"Okay . . . let's hurry up and go on before I try to kill somebody."

* * *

Philippines' place.

"Hnngh, _sino yan_?" the young girl mumbled in her native tongue, rubbing her eyes as she'd just woken up from a siesta. She saw both the tall figures of Germany and Hungary looming over her door. Naturally, she would've panicked, since she wasn't really in her best appearance. But since the siesta that she just had was a bit short-lived (which almost always made her cranky afterwards), her attitude wasn't really in the mood to fix herself up. Instead, she looked at them both and just flat-out asked, "May I help you?"

Already, things seems a bit difficult. "Uhm, _guten tag_, Corazon . . . m-may we ask you a few questions?"

"Go ahead, _po_."

Ludwig turned to Elizaveta, pleading for help. Good thing she planned what to say ahead. "Well, we need to ask you about some of your traditions that you do on Valentine's day."

"Ahh . . . why _po_?"

"Erm, it's for a . . . a . . . " Germany found himself turning red as he tried to find the words to speak. Was it really this hard to ask for help? He couldn't take it anymore.

" . . . why are you blushing, _po_?"

_She noticed?_

"Ah, he just needs advice," Elizaveta replied. Thank goodness, she was there to answer. "So, may we ask?"

The young Filipina stared at them for a while. She then motioned for them to enter her house. "Come inside, _po_."

She led them into her own living room. It was notable that the theme of the whole area was sort of Westernized, but the essence of her native land was still there. A guitar was lazily plopped down on one of the armchairs, along with sheets of guitar chords. The two sat down on one of the couches that were positioned while the girl herself sat down on a parallel rattan chair. "So? What are you going to ask, _po_?"

Hungary looked at her companion. "Well, he's got a problem . . . he likes someone, but he doesn't know what to do," At this, the German facepalmed. Did she really have to tell everyone?

Thankfully, she didn't ask anything yet. "Ah, for Valentine's day, _po_? Ah, _sige_. Okay. Well, I know one tradition of ours that just might help you."

At this, Ludwig took out his trusty pen and notebook as Elizaveta interrogated. "What is it?"

"_Harana, po_."

"_Harana_?"

"_Opo_. In English, _harana_ is 'serenade'. It was _Tatay_ Spain who introduced me to it. Basically, when a boy likes someone, he'd try to get her attention by singing a love song to her. Typically, he'd go to her house and when she's out on the balcony, that's when he'd sing to her. Usually his friends come with him for musical accompaniment and moral support."

"Oh. So, does it work?"

"It depends on the girl, I guess," Philippines shrugged. "Some appreciate it and say yes, some don't. Why, is he worried that he'd be rejected by the girl?"

"Well, uh . . . "

"Who is it anyways? Is it _Ate_ Belgium?"

Germany coughed. "No. And there's Spain."

"_Ate_ Belarus?'

"Heck no. And to be honest, I don't see what Lithuania sees in her."

"_Ate_ Ukraine?"

"She's with Canada. And no."

"Liechtenstein?"

"What? No! Of course not! Isn't she too young?"

"Ay, sorry _po_. Uhh, _Ate_ Taiwan?"

"No."

"_Ate_ Vietnam?"

"No."

"Seychelles?"

"No."

" . . . _Ate_-"

"No more _ate_s."

Finally, Philippines sighed in defeat. "I give up,_ po_. Who is it?"

Before Ludwig could answer, Elizaveta beat him to it. "It's Italy," she blurted out.

The once dreary eyes of Corazon grew wider. It suddenly seemed as if something just exploded. After a few seconds of awkward silence (how many times did this have to happen to poor Germany?), she started laughing. Really loudly. So loudly that Russia had heard it and was probably joining along with the laughter as well. (But then again, it could've just been Ludwig's paranoia.)

"_Talaga_? Really?" the girl giggled. Elizaveta nodded enthusiastically, and Germany started headdesking once again. "_Hay naku, kuya_! I knew it! I sensed the vibes from you two a long time ago, but I never thought that you'd actually admit it!" She started tearing up, clutching her stomach and laughing uncontrollably. Hungary was even laughing along with her.

_Why me? Why me?, _was the only thing that ran through the poor German's mind. _Why me of all people? Why did I even tell Hungary in the first place?_

Stiffly, Ludwig stood up and turned towards Philippine's door. "Well. Thank you for your time, Miss Rizal. I think that's enough help from you. Come on, Elizaveta, let's ask Poland instead."

At once, the Filipina stopped her laughing. "_Uy_, wait!" she called out, standing up. "I was just kidding. I'll stop already, promise. I won't do it again, _po_. Besides, I really want to help you."She stifled a giggle much to Germany's dismay.

He looked at her warily. "Are you sure?"

It was Elizaveta who stood up to Corazon's defense this time. "Oh, come on, Ludwig. We were just joking anyway. We promise not to tease anymore."

Would he seriously trust these two? If he did, they might just leave him out and start the whole laughing thing again. On the other hand, Philippine's method did look interesting . . . and he also regretted saying that thing about going to Feliks' for help . . . so . . .

"Oh, fine."

* * *

"Okay, so _kuya_. I want you to learn this song. It's entitled '_Harana_'. Since it practically fits whatever feelings you're feeling towards _kuya_ Italy," at this, Philippines giggled, "I guess this song will do for it."

Ludwig frowned. "Feliciano doesn't speak your language. Do you think he'll still understand it?"

"Hey. If _Kuya_ America gets _Kuya_ Japan's music, then why not?"

"Point taken."

They practiced the entire song again and again, with Corazon thwacking the man over the head with a bamboo stick whenever he got the lyrics and/or pronunciation of the words wrong. If he was nervous already with the threat with Philippine's bamboo stick on his head, how nervous would he be on the performance itself? Would he still pull through? And even if he was able to, would Italy accept him? The thought of Feliciano possibly rejecting him seemed more painful than a bonk on the head. Wait, what was he thinking?

"Uy, _kuya_. Concentrate."

Bonk.

* * *

Soon, the practice had ended. Corazon had thought that Ludwig's practice was enough to actually make him pass. Maybe it was enough? He hoped it was. Well, they had practiced for the whole afternoon, so they must've been prepared now, right?

"Uhh . . . _kuya_," Philippine's voice called him out of his thoughts. "I shouldn't be asking about this now, but . . . do you know how to play guitar?"

_. . . oh heck._

"Well, c-can't you play the guitar for me instead?" Germany stammered. He'd forgotten about that.

"Ehh, don't ask me to play guitar, _po_," the Filipina protested. "_Beginner pa lang kasi po ako e . . ._"

"What?"

"I'm only a beginner!"

_. . . crap._

"Eh, maybe you can ask other people. Who do you know that plays guitar, _po_?"

Well, there was Italy. But of course not him. There was also Prussia, but why would he do that? Maybe Japan? No, not really. Spain . . . ? No, he said he'd be busy during Valentine's. Germany ran through a mental list of others he knew who could . . . but who would it be? Most of the others had other plans and/or he wasn't completely comfortable with . . .

Finally, Ludwig gave an exasperated sigh. Only one resort left. He took out his cellphone and began dialing.

"Ay, _kuya_! You'll need more than one person with you though. For moral support."

. . . great. Just great.

* * *

At long last. It was time.

Germany found himself facing the Italys' household, just below the balcony. Already, he was feeling very, very nervous. Was it the chill in the air? Or was it the fear or rejection?

"Hey, are you alright?"

England stared up at him from the guitar, his hands still positioned on one of the strings as he tried to tune it. The others - Japan, Hungary, Philippines, Austria - looked at him as well. They all had a look of concern on their faces (or maybe it was just the cold). He gave a stiff nod and faced the house once more.

"Don't forget about my payment later," Arthur reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"_Ja, ja_."

* * *

Meanwhile, Italy was in his room (which was by the balcony), tuning his own guitar in hopes of practicing in time. His brother, Romano, was standing by the doorway, ranting about why it was so cold this night and why he had to be so unlucky this Valentine's day and why Antonio didn't tell him that he was going out on a date with Belgium and blah. Not that Italy was paying attention, of course. His mind was drifiting off somewhere far away, lost in blissful thought. His face was pink as he dreamt sweet dreams of him and his beloved-

Suddenly, the sound of a guitar chord interrupted his thoughts. Surprised by the sudden sound, Italy decided to investigate.

"It must've came from the balcony . . . " he mumbled to himself. He stood up from his bed and walked over to said area.

* * *

"He's there." Japan motioned at the figure of Italy walking towards the railing. The moment had finally came. Germany glanced behind at his companions, who in turn gave him supportive gestures. He mustered all of his courage and looked at Feliciano. There was no turning back now.

"Remeber, _kuya_," Corazon suddenly whispered into his ear. "Try to get the lyrics correct. If you don't, you might screw up. But no pressure, _po_." She retreated back to her position and watched everything else happen.

"Germany?" the Italian peered over to him from above, obviously confused. "What are you doing here? Why are the others here, too?"

Ludwig decided to ignore Feliciano's questions for a while. "Uhm, Italy," he started. A lump of fear immediately rose in his throat. "Well, I j-just wanted to . . . tell you . . . how I've been feeling about you . . . a-and also, happy Valentine's day . . . excuse me." He cleared his throat and stared back at Arthur. He gave him a small nod, and the Englishman started strumming. He waited for the right moment, and he started to sing.

"_Uso pa ba ang harana?_"

He felt his voice crack, but he didn't care anymore.

"_Marahil ikaw ay nagtataka  
Sino ba 'tong mukhang gago?  
Nagkandarapa sa pagkanta  
At nasisintunado sa kaba?_"

The German stared back at Italy, hoping for a good reaction. Feliciano was obviously confused, but there was a smile growing on his face. It gave him the strength to carry on.

"_Meron pang dalang mga rosas; suot nama'y  
Maong na kupas  
At nariyan pa ang barkada  
Nakaporma naka barong sa awiting daig pa minus one at sing along_"

Again, he smiled. This was actually kind of fun. He took another deep breath and sang the next lines.

"_Puno ang langit ng bituin  
At kay lamig pa ng hangin  
Sa'yong tingin akoy nababaliw giliw  
At sa awitin kong ito  
Sana'y maibigan mo  
Ibubuhos ko ang buong puso ko  
Sa isang munting harana para sa'yo_"

At the instrumental break, Ludwig allowed himself to take a better glance at Feliciano's reaction. He was definietly smiling, alright. He was even giggling as Germany sung some parts. Maybe this was worth it. He'd have to thank Philippines later on. The next part of the song came.

"_Hindi ba't parang isang sine?  
Isang pelikulang romantiko?  
Hindi ba't ikaw ang bidang artista at ako ay iyong leading-man  
Sa istoryang nagwawakas sa pagibig na wagas_"

He admitted it to himself that it was kind of awkward singing the lyrics. Even though he had no idea how the language worked, and since Corazon told him what the song meant (with English translations for better understanding), he found it uncomfortable to know what he was actually singing. Nevertheless, he'd still do it anyway. He'd do it for Italy.

"_Puno ang langit ng bituin  
At kay lamig pa ng hangin  
Sa'yong tingin akoy nababaliw giliw  
At sa awitin kong ito  
Sana'y maibigan mo  
Ibubuhos ko ang buong puso ko  
Sa isang munting harana para sa'yo._"

The song was nearly over. Just a few more strums from England's guitar and it'd all be over. Finally, he would be able to go to his beloved Feliciano and tell him what he really felt. He'd try to ask for his acceptance, and they'd be happy together.

Suddenly, Romano peered out of the balcony. He glared down at Germany and mumbled something about 'it's that potato bastard' again. He left the scene, leaving Italy even more confused. He probably got something from inside the house.

A few seconds later, he came back dumped what seemed too look like a bucket full of cold water on Germany's head. It splashed onto his head and drenched him cold.

"Ay!" Philippines suddenly exclaimed. "_Yung arinola nga pala . . . _"

" . . . what?"

"If a family rejects the boy, they'd dump an _arinola_ full of pee on him . . ." Corazon looked at Ludwig and started to apologize repeatedly. "I'm so sorry! I forgot to tell you! . . . at least he only dumped cold water on you. Be glad it wasn't pee or anything."

"Hey!"

Everyone suddenly stared up at the two brothers on the balcony. They had started to bicker, first in English, then in rapid Italian. Somehow, everyone knew that Lovino was throwing in swear words at every single sentence spoken. Feliciano was able to slow down and they were finally able to understand what they were talking about.

"_Fratello_, why did you do that?"

"Oh come on, Veneziano. You know I hate that guy."

They watched as Italy threw his arms up in the air and walk back towards the house. "But you didn't even have to do that!" Romano only followed back, talking in rapid Italian once again.

The rest of the nations just stood in silence. No one really knew what was going to happen next. Especially not Germany. Nevermind that he was drenched from head to toe, that was the least of his problems right now. He was panicking in his mind, fussing and wondering if Feliciano would still be able to accept him after what happened. Will he come down and tell him that it was alright? Or would he just embarrass himself once again and never get Italy's answer?

He probably would've fainted already if he hadn't seen the young Italian emerge from the backdoor of their house leading to where they were positioned. Feliciano immediately ran towards the German and enveloped him (despite the wetness) in a huge embrace. He felt his heart beat faster as his drenched arms instinctively wrapped themselves around the other nation's small waist. The rest of the supportive team looked at one another, and then decided to leave them be for a while, thinking that it would be for the benefit of both of them. When the two were left alone, Italy pulled away and looked at Germany directly into the eyes, tears forming in his own.

"I-I'm so sorry my _fratello_ did that to you," he apologized. "I know he really doesn't like you, but I don't even see why . . . "

Ludwig wiped the tears from the Italian's cheeks. He cupped his face in his hands and smiled. "You don't have to apologize. It's okay. I'm pretty used to it."

With that, Feliciano smiled a bit. He brushed his auburn hair out of his eyes and gazed back at the man in front of him. "I guess." His expression was suddenly shadowed with confusion. "But what you did earlier, the singing . . . how did you know that I was going to do the same?"

Germany stared dumbfounded at Italy. " . . . what?"

"Yeah. I was supposed to go to your house to sing, too, but . . . I guess you got ahead of me. I asked Cory's help, actually."

Suddenly, Philippines appeared from out of nowhere, a surprised tone in her voice. "AH!" she exclaimed. "So you were the one who asked me to help you for Valentines! No wonder I felt like I was forgetting something! Sorry _po, kuya_! Sorry _po_!"

The Italian just grinned. "No, it's okay. At least Germany feels the same way about it."

"A-about what?" Ludwig asked. His face was turning into a bright shade of red again.

"About us, silly," chirped Italy. He wrapped his arms around the German's neck and smiled. "If we both thought about it at the same time, that means we both care for each other, right?"

Germany chuckled at Feliciano's innocence. He loved it when he talked likee that. "Y-yeah."

"So, will you give me a kiss?"

(And here, Corazon slinked away, heading back towards the other countries.)

"W-what?

"A kiss," replied the nation slyly. He moved closer towards his Doitsu, allowing his face to be only inches away from his. "To show that you really love me."

Ludwig couldn't resist. He looked directly into Italy's eyes once again and pressed his (rather wet, but still) lips against the Italian's soft, warm ones without any hesitation. He let himself sink into the moment's bliss, not wanting to let go. It felt . . . good, actually, to know that he was finally accepted by his Italy. To have his acceptance was probably the best things that Germany could ever hope for. Now he had no problem with it. Heck, he had no problem with anything anymore. And since that the whole ordeal was over and done with, he could just live in happy peace along with his love. Nothing would've been better.

Feliciano pulled away from the kiss first, smiling as he did so. And he, as if by direct instinct, planted another one on the man's forehead. Italy blushed as he buried his head in Germany's shoulder and giggled. "So, what now?"

"Hmm, " thought Ludwig. "Well, I think Gilbert has a Valentine's party today. Do you want to go?"

Italy grinned. "But I thought you didn't like parties."

The German looked thoughtfully at the sky. " Well, maybe I can try something else for a change." He looked down at the clothes that his love's brother damaged.

"_Ve_, do you need to change clothes first?" Feliciano asked him. Ludwig gave a chuckle.

"No, no need." He kissed the Italian's forehead and smiled. "Let's go."

* * *

"Hmm, these are pretty interesting pictures, _da_." Russia mused as he opened up a file of pictures that Prussia had sent him. They were all taken from his Valentine's party, and most of them involved his bruder and Italy. "Very, very interesting . . ."

**'Wakas'**

* * *

L/N: MOHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE. *faceplant*

So, did you enjoy it? Yes? I think not. Hehe. Anyways. CULTURE SHOCK TIME.

So . . . me and my sister did a lot of research here (Ah, she also deserves to be credited. She helped with said research, wording, editing and final review. Thanks a bunch, Liet~!), and as you've read from above, we were able to get traditions from Japan, Lithuania (because my sister is so biased), Greece, Denmark, Austria and the Philippines (woot!). As you've also seen above, we quite spammed the fic with Filipino words. Here are the translations, as follows:

_Sino 'yan? _- Who's that?

_Po_ - term of respect (especially towards elders)

_Sige_ - Okay

_Tatay_ - Father

_Ate_ - older female

_Talaga?_ - Really?

_Hay naku_ - utter of exclamation

_Kuya_ - older male

_Ay! Yung arinola nga pala . . . -_ Oh! Right, the _arinola_ . . .

_Arinola_ - little pot in which people during the Spanish occupation did their, erm, "business" (type 1)

The song sung by Germany in this fic is 'Harana' by Parokya ni Edgar. The English translation is kind of hard to put up, so... I might just post it some other time. We decided to keep the song in Tagalog to keep the essence of the song. (Also, it is kind of funny seeing Ludwig sing in the language.) Ahem. Anyways. If I need to explain anything more or if I got anything wrong, please do tell me.

Thank goodness it's done. *dies from effort* Happy Belated Valentine's Day. If you want to review it, go ahead. If you don't, it's fine with me. I don't really care anymore, hehe.


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